Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Cambodia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Davy DMX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Metal Thangz,
Albert Ayler,
Severed Heads,
Wasted Youth,
Sex Pistols,
Al Stewart,
Stockholm Monsters,
F. McDonald,
Bad Manners,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crispy Ambulance,
Curtis Mayfield,
Con Funk Shun,
Tommy Roe,
Gang of Four,
Sun Ra,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Marvin Gaye,
Camouflage,
The Angels of Light,
New Age Steppers,
The Tremeloes,
Byron Stingily,
Brick,
Nico,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Harry Pussy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Smog,
The Cure,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Divine Comedy,
Tim Buckley,
Brothers Johnson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Blossom Toes,
Minor Threat,
DJ Sneak,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pere Ubu,
The Saints,
the Association,
Sparks,
Steve Hackett,
The Motions,
Suburban Knight,
The Doors,
Black Sheep,
Slick Rick,
Soul II Soul,
Pussy Galore,
Chris & Cosey,
Japan,
Ludus,
The Durutti Column,
Lucky Dragons,
Black Flag,
Panda Bear,
Essential Logic,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.